


Royal Prerogative

by freosan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, authority kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 06:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14158776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freosan/pseuds/freosan
Summary: “After all, a king has all rights to his subjects,” Ardyn continues. Noct thought his skin would be cold, but no, he burns like he has Ifrit’s fire inside him. His breath is hot and damp through the fine wool of Noct’s suit. “Body, mind, and soul.”





	Royal Prerogative

_The king made to kneel, in pain, he crawls_.

Noct hated the poem the first time he heard it, out of Ardyn’s mouth on that pier too many years ago, and he hates it now, the way it’s rattling through his head as he watches Ardyn go down to his knees.

He doesn’t know what makes him drop his sword, doesn’t know why he closes the distance between them. But here he is, Ardyn’s blood-red, filthy hair tangled in his fingers. Ardyn’s chin pressed against his thigh.

“Would you take your royal prerogative, then?” Ardyn asks, his eyes too bright, his gold irises reflecting light that isn’t there, contrasting the empty black at the corners of his eyes. Black blood. The rumors in Niflheim, they used to say that the Lucian kings had that - black blood, black hearts. Noct fists his hands in Ardyn’s hair so tight the strands cut into his own fingers. Ardyn doesn’t flinch.

“After all, a _king_ has all rights to his subjects,” Ardyn continues. Noct thought his skin would be cold, but no, he burns like he has Ifrit’s fire inside him. His breath is hot and damp through the fine wool of Noct’s suit. “ _Body_ , mind, and soul.”

Noct cups the side of Ardyn’s face, his thumb tracing the scourge-black veins. The lines lead inevitably to Ardyn’s jugular, to Noct’s hand wrapped around Ardyn’s throat, as his ancient ancestor - ancient enemy - tips his head back and closes his eyes.

“You’re my subject?” he asks. Ardyn swallows, the bob of his throat obvious under Noct’s palm.

“I must be, mustn’t I? You are here to take the throne.”

Noct’s hand tightens on Ardyn’s throat. “No messing around. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I am your loyal servant,” Ardyn says, and then is silent. Noct’s panting breath is so loud in the empty space after Ardyn’s words. Ardyn’s lips are still parted, his mouth shaped to finish his sentence.

“Say it,” Noct tells him. Now it’s Ardyn’s turn to fill the silence with his labored breathing, as Noct bears down on him, his hand growing tighter and tighter around Ardyn’s throat. This won’t kill him, Noct isn’t sure anything will, but the black trails down Ardyn’s face grow thicker.

“Your Majesty,” Ardyn gasps, just before Noct cuts off his air completely.

Noct relents and Ardyn sucks in air that he surely doesn’t need, his wide eyes two golden coins in a sea of oil-black, staring up at his king. If he were anyone else. If they were anywhere else, if Noct could be a true king to him. Noct strokes Ardyn’s wild hair back from his face.

“Body, mind, and soul, huh? Show me.”

Noct doesn’t have to do a thing. Ardyn’s golden eyes never once leave Noct’s face as he undoes the many buttons that fasten Noct’s pants.

Ardyn’s mouth is as hot as the rest of him, his lips feverish as he takes Noct into his mouth, his tongue scalding when it wraps around the head of Noct’s cock. He’s good at this, practiced, and Noct grows hard quickly, rocking towards Ardyn’s mouth when he gives a pleased hum.

There’s no reason for Noct to be gentle. He grips the back of Ardyn’s head punishingly tight and thrusts into his hot, welcoming throat. Only then does Ardyn close his eyes. He groans around Noct, sending a rush of pleasure up Noct’s spine.

It’s over in moments, Noct’s body too sensitive to hold back, after ten years untouched by anything but Bahamut’s gaze. Ardyn is as far from human as the Astrals are but he is still physical, sensual, in a way that none of them match. He sucks like he’s trying to drain the life from Noct along with the jizz down his throat. Noct has to wrench himself away, panting, when it becomes too much.

“The legend was, once upon a time, that a king’s touch could heal,” Ardyn says. His voice is rough as he leans his forehead against Noct’s hip. “Perhaps it was only legend. It seems our gods are not so easily confounded.”

Noct all but throws him backwards, disgusted by both of them, all at once. His blade materializes in one hand as he tries to pull his clothing back together with the other.

“Get off your knees, King of Lucis,” he says.

Ardyn grins and faces him.


End file.
